


Disappear

by which_chartreuse



Series: The First Time(s) [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gentle, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Canon, Unexpected Sex, am I the only one who doesn't like chatty sex?, constant practice, could be canon compliant, kastle - Freeform, non-verbal consent, practice, rainstorm, soft, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 22:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/which_chartreuse/pseuds/which_chartreuse
Summary: She wants more, wants to disappear under his touch.





	Disappear

**Author's Note:**

> It has barely stopped raining here for two days. So this happened.  
> Same time as Tristesse and Incandescent, but you don't have to read those if you don't want to.

Wave after wave of blowing rain, the continuous rumble of thunder, the flash of lightning: the storm never lets up for long. Sheets of grey water obscure the city and threaten to drown anyone venturing out, but they’ll definitely drown if they stay hidden in the service tunnel much longer. 

The rain pelts them, needling exposed flesh, deepening their bruises. The light is so dull and the streets so empty that they stop bothering to keep to the edges of buildings. Within a few blocks they simply run. 

His hand is warm and firm around hers, but the water seeps between their fingers, and every part of Karen feels saturated. After the first few minutes, it’s a clean feeling, and she imagines the blood and grime washing down the storm drains along with the city’s detritus. But that soon gives way to a heavy, over-stimulated exhaustion. She loses track of their direction, and all she can focus her attention to is the pressure of Frank’s hand. She trusts him to get them to safety, to get them out of the storm. 

She doesn’t expect to end up at her building, but here they are. The power is out, so she sorts through her keyring for the front door key she has never used. Her fingers tremble, and she stutters incoherent curses and apologies until Frank takes the keys from her and lets them in. They take the stairs, and no one passes them. He gets them through her door, as well, before she dashes past him to gather every bath towel she owns. 

She hands him half the stack, then begins the process of pealing herself out of her sodden shoes, her blazer, her dress shirt. It isn’t until she’s wrapped a towel over her camisole and begun to rub vigorously at her arms that she feels the heat of his eyes on her. 

“Take that off,” she nods to him, indicating the dark flak jacket heavily dripping on the kitchen tile. He complies, and then-some, and he’s quickly shirtless and toeing out of his boots while simultaneously wiping himself dry. His hair is surprisingly curly while this damp, and droplets cling to his beard, but Frank looks composed and calm and warm while Karen quakes with cold. 

He hurriedly towels his hair, then the heat of his gaze returns. She’s still trying to force warmth into her arms, but her teeth are chattering. The only heat she feels is creeping up her cheeks under his eyes, and then he’s there. He wraps his arms around her, pulls her into his chest, pins her to him. And he is warm. Rubbing large hands up and down her back and blowing hot gusts against her shoulder. 

He holds her, warms her, until her teeth stop chattering and her trembling subsides to occasional shivers. Then his hands slow, and he just holds her. She feels his heart beating against the fists that still hold the towel around her, and she knows he can feel hers through the palms pressed to her spine. Her whole body is her pulse as feeling makes its way back in. And he holds her, still. 

They have embraced before, have shared close space out of both affection and necessity; but never for so long. When she feels steady and almost warm, her fists open and press him away, and he meets her eye. 

His hands settle at her hips, but Frank gives her the space the pressure of her hands is demanding. He watches her blue eyes as they search in the near-dark. She takes him in. The cut on his cheekbone isn’t bleeding anymore, but the blue bruise is sinking into purple and spreading around his eye. One hand goes to the spot where he took the hit and hovers, afraid to cause more pain, while her other still clutches the towel around her shoulders. He reaches up and presses her palm against his cheek with the smallest wince and a slow exhalation. His eyes dart from her gaze to her mouth and back, and she shivers again.

There’s a long moment when neither of them breathe before Frank steps back into her space, hands returning to her spine, and his lips find hers. 

His kiss is soft, and gentle, yet hungry, and Karen’s whole body flushes with heat. His eyes are closed, and hers flutter shut as he persists. And she sinks. Her mind sinks into his warmth and the sound of thunder rattling the windows. The sound of his breath against her skin. 

When they break apart he watches her expression with apprehension, and when she doesn’t push him away his eyes flash like the lightning outside. She closes the space the second time, and he embraces her so tight her feet leave the floor. 

He wants to lift her up, but the clinging fabric of her still-damp skirt hinders range of motion. His mouth continuously seeks hers while his fingers grope and fumble for a zipper. Karen bats his hands away and undoes the skirt, shucking it off while pulling Frank along in her backwards progression with her kiss. He finally lifts her, wrapping her legs around his waist, supporting her with a strong grip under her thighs, and carries her with him to the edge of the couch. He settles her in his lap and stares up into her face. 

She feels delicate in his gaze. She feels uncertain, but also a deep longing. His hand cups her neck, thumb stroking her jaw, and her eyes fall shut again. His hand glides over her to rest against her heart, now pounding in her chest. Another shiver that runs through her. A brief, soft kiss draws her eyes back to him.

His hands chart the geography of her body, but his eyes return to her face over and over. The tension on his brow is question enough, and she returns his looks with small nods, beckoning on. Then his mouth follows suit, tracing the hard edge of her collar bones. His tongue dips into the hollow of her throat, and her fingers clench in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A smile splits her face, and it feels strange, but in a way she enjoys. And as she smiles, he gets bolder, until she sighs, low and sweet, and a rumble, an echo of thunder, builds in his chest. He lifts her again and settles her carefully on the cushions, before removing the last of his clothes and easing down beside her. 

She reaches for him, pulls him in to her kiss, then locks eyes with him as his fingers trace lower. She wants more, wants to disappear under his touch. But she’s stuck in her head, even as her body responds beautifully to Frank’s ministrations. Because it’s good and warm and just right in ways that her mind is saying shouldn’t be possible, but it is. And she grasps at him, digging her fingers into his shoulders and pulling his hair, urging him on until he’s hovering over her. A nearly weightless pressure builds and builds and builds.

Both of their expressions falter. Their features twist with pleasure and frustration and need. Then she does disappear, face open and slack, because the world has disappeared around her. Frank vanishes, and the sound of the thunder. The lightning doesn’t flash, but grows and brightens, filling the room, blinding her. 

She hears his breath, ragged in her ear. The trembling has nothing to do with the wet or cold. The tears well up and overflow her eyes, flooding over her skin. 

He doesn’t say anything. Just witnesses her as he moves against her. Guides her down. Gently returns her to her body. 

She extracts a hand from his curls and brushes at a tear with a small laugh, and he breathes a little easier. He kisses the salty liquid from her other cheek. He shifts them again, and they rest side by side. He pulls her into him, cradling her neck and skull so she’s wrapped in his warmth and supported by the cushions at her back. 

She peers over the slope of his shoulder into the dark of the apartment. The thunder has subsided, but the rain continues to rap and stream down the windows. 

“Karen,” his voice is rough, and not quite a question. 

She hesitates, not ready to face the swiftly advancing reality of the outside world. “I know, Frank,” she says, and grasps him tighter. 

For a little while, that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I guess I'm just going to keep writing this over and over again.  
> Instead of restricting word count, I beat some of my insecurities to submission and just went with it. Others, not so much. I still have definite ideas about what's going on in both of their heads in this scenario but don't have the confidence/don't know how to get them onto the page (screen) in a smooth way yet.   
> I honestly don't know why I keep returning to this story, or why I keep posting (because it is not great for the anxiety when my non-academic writing goes to live in the wild), but I appreciate the bits of feedback I've had so far. So, if you feel inclined, please let me know your thoughts.  
> Thanks for reading. (:


End file.
